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ISABEL AND RINALDO 



A TRAGEDY. 



IN FIVE ACTS 



~±!U 



PUBLISHED FOE, PRIVATE CIRCULATION. 

ALL EIGHTS RESERVED. 






205449 
'13 



TO 

WILLIAM CEESWICK, Esquire, 

in|testimony of admiration 

OF 

HIS GENIUS, 

this][tragedy is, with his permission, 
respectfully inscribed, 

BY 



THE AUTHOR. 



Cljaraxim* 



Duke. 
General. 
Laxdolpho. 
Dioneo. 

CoNEADO. 

Maetel-lixo. 

E.INAXDO. 

Albebt. 

Fatheb Ambbose. 
Bruno. 

isabella. 
Alessashdea. 
Catella. 
Nurse. 
Priests, Soldiers, Citizens, Courtiers, §e 



Scene — Florence and Lucca. 
Peeiod, a.d. 1342. 



ISABEL AND RINALDO. 



ACT I. 

SCENE I.— A Public Place. 

Enter Albert and Conrado. 
Albert. 
But I tell thee, man, 'tis fixed and certain 
That we march to-night ; e'en now our General 
Is with the Duke, and in an hour at most 
'Twill be proclaimed. 

Conrado. 

When I am warm in bed 
To-night, I'll dream your news is true ; awake, 
I will not credit it. Believe me, youngster, 
There will be no war. 

Albert. 

But the Duke to us 
Is pledged to carry out this quarrel. First, 
Our General was he appointed ; then, 
By the people's voice he is made our Duke, 
That we might better hope to end this war 
Successfully. 

Conrado 
Yet stiLU'll stake this hand 
I prophesy aright. 



6 ISABEL AND RINALDO. [act i. 

Albert. 

It cannot be. 
But see here Martellino comes in haste. 
Now I do prophesy, this hand too stake, 
He proves untrue Conrado's prophesy. 

Martellino f without J. 
What, Albert and Conrado. 

Enter Martellino. 
Albert. 

Well man, well ? 
Martellino. 
Why thus commands our Greneral — That you, 
That all, be at their posts within the camp 
By midnight, and at daybreak be prepared 
To march. 

Conrado. 
The night together let us break 
Till then. I've giv'n my wench these twenty times 
A hundred parting smacks, till kissing' s grown 
As dull as matrimony ; so I'm free 
To offer up with you to-night libations 
Unto all the fighting gods of Christendom, 
To speed our tortoise Greneral on his march. 

Martellino. 
No, no, Conrado. You must now return 
At once with us unto the palace, where 
The Duke will hold his Court, and take with us 
Your loyal leave. 

Conrado. 
To Court ! Indeed, not I ! 
Court talk is Greek to me. I ne'er venture 



scene i.] ISABEL AND RLNALDO. 7 

In a place where it is unmannerly 

To call my trusty little linguist here — {Taps Ms sword.) 

My world's interpreter — to help me out 

In argument, when my rough tongue fails me. 

'Sdeath ! Who's that that steals away so cat-like 

In the dark ? There, do you not see the man ? 

Albert. 
Methinks it is the miscreant Bruno, 
By his thievish gait. Dost know the fellow ? 

Conbado. 
Know him ! Faith, yes. I know him to be 
The cunning' st knave that e'er in Venice 'scaped 
The hangman's cord. I say, heware of him ! 
Let him not walk behind you in the dark. 
I saw Binaldo here a few days since, 
But look the coward rascal in the face, 
And he did show what nimble legs he had, 
To save his skin from scratches. 

Mabtellino. 

Conrado, 
I pray you now that you do come with us. 

Cokrado. 
Well, well, the courtier then I'll play awhile — 
Tell twenty lies to win but half a smile ! [Exeunt. 

Enter Brtt^o and Oatella. 

Catella. 
Nay, Bruno, I will not be put off thus ; 
Thou shalt stay and talk to me. 
Bbthsto. 
Why, woman, 
Haunt me thus ? and what dost thou out at nights ? 
Go, get thee home, if honesty's thy trade ! 



8 ISABEL AND EINALDO. [act i. 

Catella. 
My mistress, the Lady Isabella, 
Bade me out, to know the news that's rumoured, 
And now I haste to tell't. 

Bruno, 
Haste then, begone, 
And stay not me ! 

Catella. 
Thou talk'st like this, I know, 
To put me off. 

Bruno. 
"What wouldst thou have with me ? 
Catella. 
Oh ! hast thou not sworn by all things holy, 
Thou would' st marry me ? 

Bruno. 

Well, admit I have. 
Catella. 
Admit thou hast ! Then why thus put me off ? 

Bruno. 
This war prevents. Why, in this war, most like, 
I shall be killed, and thou canst couple then, 
Good wench, with some lustier fool than I. 

Catella. 
Oh ! Bruno, I beseech thee, talk not so ; 
Thou frighten' st me. 

Bruno. 
Come, come, good wench, go home ; 
Good luck to thee ! Thou see'st I'm in haste. 

Catella. 
Oh, Bruno, Bruno, make me thy wife, 
As thou so oft hast promised me thou'dst do, 



scene i,] ISABEL AND RINALDO. 9 

Ere thou dost leave me for this cruel war. 

Oh ! were I thy wife, then, when thou art gone, 

I'd ever pray fcr thee. 

Oh ! were I but thy wife, I'd drudge all day, 

All night, how the best to serve thee, Bruno ; 

Thy very slave I'd be unceasingly, 

By word or look I'd never vex thee more, 

I'd do whate'er thou bad'st — ah ! though the thing 

Thou bad'st were wrong. Some money, too, I've stored, 

And that I'll freely spend, to make for thee 

A home, though poor, yet still a pretty one, 

'Gainst thy return ; and then, perhaps — a child — ( Weeps. J 

Bruno. 
"Well, by and by we'll talk of this. Begone. 

\_Exit Catella. 
The devil strangle thee and the brat together, 
That's in thy womb, ere I will marry thee. 
Marry thee ! I would as lief be married 
To a churchyard corpse, with all its progeny 
Of crawling worms ! What pestering fools 
These women are ! Because we humour them 
When their fancy's warm, they must needs serve up 
The stale remainder of the meal — invite, 
Forsooth, their gossip kinsfolk of the town 
Unto a marriage feast, and then fall a-railing, 
If we but say we have no further appetite ! 
With unaccustomed limbs, till now, this Duke 
Has been aflound'ring by the shore ; to-night, 
A skilful swimmer and in midstream plunged, 
He breasts the treach'rous waves. Would I had power 
To bribe the devil to reveal to me 
The fated issue of this gamester's cast. 



10 ISABEL AND EINALDO. [act i. 

Day ^y day, with, slow and patient handling, 

Hath he drawn here within the camp, the rongh 

And riotous hearts scattered through the land ; 

This done, he packs them off to war and fight 

His neighbours, leaving it to chance, to kill 

Or cure their griefs. Yes, yes, it is too plain 

For doubt ; this man should be an emperor. 

Those puzzling, uncouth missives which I bore, 

From Lucca here, with such close secrecy- 

By him enjoined — aye, as though they had been 

Stolen relics of a saint, I can now, 

Methinks, as plain interpret and decipher, 

As ancient Daniel did in Babylon 

The fiery scribbling in Belshazzar's halls. 

The cunning of it pleases me. This man's 

Both apt and caj>able to weave a web 

Of dextrous villainy. I am drawn 

Towards him by a feeling near akin 

To brotherly love, which bids me tie 

My fortunes unto his. I am resolved, 

Let come what may, be it to sink or swim, 

The Duke's my master ; I'll plunge after him. [JExit. 



SCENE II. — Audience Chamber in the Duke's Palace. 

Enter General, Dioneo, Aeessandra, Soldiers, Courtiers 
and Attendants. 
General. 
Well met, well met. Soon now our slothful limbs, 
Benumbed and cramped by this inactive peace, 



scene ii.] ISABEL AND RINALDO. 11 

Shall we restore to healthful life again ! 
This night doth end our lazy holidays. 

Enter Martellino, Conrado, and Albert. 
I am glad to see thee, Martellino, 
Albert and Conrado too. But our friend 
Binaldo, — where, where is he, Conrado ? 

Conrado. 
I have not seen the lad these three hours past. 

Martellino. 
But now I saw him by the river side. 
There, in fondest reverie wrapped, he lay, 
Agazing on the stream, as though thereout 
He strove to draw his own life's augury, 
As one by one the tiny waves, bejewelled 
By the silvery moon, leapt prattling on the shore ; 
But he did look so sad and pitiful, 
When I delivered unto him your summons, 
General, I had no discourse with him . 

Alessandra. 
But dost thou think, my dear Dioneo, 
It will be long before thou dost return ? 

Dioneo. 
That question from a soldier's wife ! In truth 
I cannot answer questioning so fond 
And foolish. This at least I'll promise thee — 
That swift as bird to his expectant mate 
And hunger-chirping little ones, at eve, 
Doth homeward wing his flight, will I, dear wile, 
Return to thee, this work of war being done. 

Conrado. 
"We are bound but for a summer holiday, 
Where more will die from surfeit than cold steel, 



12 ISABEL AND RINALDO. [act i. 

Before tliis secret, lady, shall have "been 

But two weeks old, 'twill be a nine days' wonder ; 

And so 'tis safe, perhaps, to entrust it 

To your keeping. 

Alessandra. 

I fear Oonrado's tongue 
"Will soon become far sharper than his sword, 
If he doth whet it thus with hard stale jests 
On me. 

Enter Duke and Bruno. 
Duke. 
Did time allow, each valiant friend, that's here 
This night, should have a separate welcome — 
Yes, but to most, with an impelled farewell 
To follow it. Oh ! friends, believe us true, 
Had this heart its sway, we'd not be parted thus ; 
In person would we head your enterprise, 
To reap with you this war's proud harvestings. 
Crushed must be the thought. Stern duty ties us down 
To skulk at home and play the watchman's part 
O'er our distracted State, and — poor solace — 
At odd scraps and intervals of time to snatch 
A little space wherein to shed some brinish drops 
Of unavailing tears, when we are told 
How you in battle nobly weeping are, 
Your life's blood out abroad. Oh, General ! 
If I were ever envious, 'twould be so now, 
To know thou hast the lucky privilege, 
Of marshalling forth our gallant troops to war. 
I'd lop off this hand if I might rightly dare 
Usurp thine office for awhile. 



scene ii.] ISABEL AND BJNALDO. 13 

Old battles flash, before us, and old scars 
And healed wounds begin to prick again, 
And hot youth's skirmishings start up afresh, 
And rush in maddening riot through our brain. 

Bruno. V Aside. 

Oh, most excellent ! Why, beside this man 
The Roman Boscius were a mountebank ! 

Duke. 
My brave Dioneo ! old friend in arms, 
Methinks thy father stands before us now — 
That model of a man. Grod speed thee, friend ! 

Dioneo. 
The father's sword the son shall ne'er dishonour. 

Duke. 
For that we'll be your gage. Martellino ! 

Martellino. 
Sire. 

Duke. 

Your baby son we'll have rechristened 
"When this war is o'er, and we will be his sponsor ; 
And in one little word his name shall speak 
His father's bravery. 

Marlellino. 

And if I faH, 
The little I deserve, I would freely beg, 
May live in memory, to devolve on him. 

Duke. 
Conrado, fewest words, we know, with thee 
Are best ; Is't so ? We understand each other ? 

Conrado. 
I trust so, Sire. Your pardon — yes, vain words 
With me are naught. 



14 ISABEL AND RINALDO. [act i. 

Miter Einaldo. 
Dttke. 
All ! our tardy warrior ! Thy hand, thy hand. 
Let not thy too hot valour lead thee on 
To unregarded danger. Dost thou hear ? 
Bear this in mind. "We do enjoin thee to it. 
The coward oftentimes courts danger most ; 
But a cool head, when the strife is hottest, 
Is the true soldier's test. When thou return'st, 
"We'll have a wedding in our Court. The bride 
Shall be adorned with victor's laurels, twined, 
With lilies of fair Florence. Wear this, lad, 
And think it was thy father gave it thee. 
What ails thee, son ? 

Einaldo [staggers). 
'Tis naught, 'tis naught, my lord. 

[Trumpet sounds. 
Duke. 
Gentlemen, farewell ! To you, with liberal trust 
Your country doth confide the issue of this war ; 
And that right bravely you'll that trust fulfil, 
We do ourselves avouch ! No further need 
To pause or hesitate ; on Lucchese ground 
Go, take your stand ! and let one glorious battle 
End this strife, and seat once more sweet smiling peace 
Triumphant in our homes ! Do this, return to us, 
With bounteous gifts our city shall o'erflow ! 
And whilst life remains to you, your country's love — 
The brave man's noblest recompense — is yours ! 
And when, in after years, this war's events 
Are chronicled, though the blood-red rust of time 



scene ii.] ISABEL AND RINALDO. 15 

May be upon your swords, the deeds they've done 

Shall to your children and your children's sons as brightly 

As feats achieved within their yesterdays ; [shine, 

And as they read the story of our times, 

They'll hug with reverence the names they bear, 

And all the warrior's pride shall flood their cheeks, 

As they narrate exultantly the deeds 

Their grandsires wrought ! 

[Exeunt all but Duke and Bruno. 
Why wear'st upon thy face 
That devil's grin ? 

Bruno. 
Well, I did think, my lord, 
How easy 'tis to lead some two-legged asses 
By the nose, with but an empty promise 
Of a wisp of straw, niched from our neighbour's barn. 

Duke. 
Be silent, knave ! I have a thing to say. 

Bruno. 
Speak it, my lord. Thy servant shall obey. {Exeunt 



SCENE 3. — A garden adjoining Landolpho'' s house. 
Enter Landolpho and Isabella. 
Landolpho. 
The air is chilly, Isabel. I'm cold 

And weary. Let us within. 

Isabella. 

Yes, dear father, 
If you wish. Here, my cloak shall cover thee. 

Landolpho. 
No, no. I'll rest awhile. 



16 ISABEL AND EINALDO. [act i. 

Isabella. 

Be seated here. 

Lakdolpho. 
Not there, not there. To see that crumbling tower, 
Doth ever make me sad. It tells me tales 
That I would fain forget. Why should it thus 
The ground encumber ? Sure 'tis left by time, 
The world's grim conqueror, as trophy here, 
In triumph, but to point in mockery 
O'er Landolpho's house. 

Isabella. 
What foolish fancies, 
Father. 

Landolpho. 
Alas ! a poor man's fancies, child, 
Are ever foolish. Yes ! Had gibing fate e'er stript 
His golden crown from off the kingly brow 
Of Solomon — ah, me ! from that time forth 
What empty folly from his lips had f all'n ! 

Isabella. 
The rudeness of that clown, who crossed our path, 
Hath ruffled the. Oh ! do not chide me thus. 

Laneolpho. 
Bah ! Should such as he, then, ruffle me ? No ! 
'Twas the rainbow livery on his back. 
Why, they who were, methinks, but yesterday, 
Poor ragged beggars, crouching at our gates 
For charity, to-day do buzz abroad, 
In painted coats, our Court nobility. 
Our Duke hath need of wiser councillors 
Than these mechanic lords of yesterday ! 



scene ii.] ISABEL AND RINALDO. IT 

Enter Catella. 
Oatella. 
It is true, my lady, the army quits 
The town to-night. 

Isabella. 
Didst thou see Einaldo ? 
Catella. 
I did, my lady. He'll be here anon. [Exit Catella. 

Lajstdolpho. 
Why, why, indeed, did we agree to join 
Our fortunes to this boy's ? A falling house 
Doth need a sturdier prop than this. Yes ; 
Best seek some better fortune, child. Dost hear ? 

Isabella. 
Oh ! speak not thus. Each word doth fall a drop 
Of poison in mine ears ! 

Landolpho . 
I say, best seek 
Some better fortune child. 

Isabella. 
My fortune's linked, 
And thou consenting, unto Rinaldo's. 

Landolpho. 
Thou art a foolish child. 

Isabella. 

No more of this ; 
For while Einaldo lives, I'm part of him ; 
And I myself would dig myself a grave, 
And o'er myself would draw the clogged earth, 
Wherewith to bury me, if such a thought 
Flashed ever for an instant through this brain. 



18 ISABEL AND RINALDO. [act i. 

Landolpiio. 
My foolish, child, I did but speak in jest. 

Isabella. 
Oh, forgive me, father ! 

Landolpho. 

'Tis o'er, and lo ! 
Behold ! all smiling as the very morn, 
Thy young Apollo's here ! 

Enter Ristaldo. 

Indoors, indoors, 
Come, Isabel, within. 

Isabella. 
Yes, instantly. \JExit Landolpho. 

Oh, dear Einaldo ! I would have thee stay ; 
And yet I know that it is wrong in me 
To do so. Would that I could fill the long 
And weary blank, when thou hast gone away, 
In dreaming that, beside me, thou wer't here, 
As thou art now, and bidding me farewell. 
Thou wilt be sure to bear in mind, I know, 
What we have told each other. You'll remember 
All that I have said. 

Eixaldo. 
Aye, each wish of thine — 
And heaven will take the trespass not amiss — 
In my memory, as a sacred thing, 
Is interwoven with the parting prayer 
Of our dear Father Ambrose. 

Isabella. 

I do think, 
Although, indeed, I would but have thee sad 



scene ii.] ISABEL AND RINALDO. 19 

At this sad time, thou yet dost speak, Rinaldo, 
More sadly than thou ought' st. 

RrNALDO. 

I do confess 
My thoughts are troubled, Isabel. 
Isabella. 

What is't 
Thou f ear' st? 

RlNALDO. 

Indeed, I know not what ; yet, still, 
The dark foreshadowing to thee, to me, 
Of some most evil thing, is o'er my heart 
Oh, Isabel ! 'tis that which makes me sad. 
I strive to laugh the fear away, and lo ! 
Awhile it vanisheth, and then again 
Steals over me, and with forbodings wilder 
Of impending ill. Yes ; but now I left 
The presence of the Duke. They who in chief 
Do hold command were there ; to each the Duke 
Addressed himself ; to me he gave this sword, 
And with fair words and eloquent, the gift 
Accompanied ; but as he placed the weapon 
In my hand, all suddenly my pulses 
Ceased their offices, and then a pang, as though 
'T had been a dagger there, struck through my heart. 

Isabella. 
Oh, Einaldo, dearest ! what dost thou mean ? 
What if mishap befall thee in the war ? 

Rjjstaldo. 
My bliss-expectant soul shall stay without 
The gates of Paradise, awaiting till 



20 ISABEL AND RINALDO. [ act ii. 

Thou com'st ; for joy in heaven were a thing 
Impossible, unshared by thee ! 

Isabella. 

Would now 
That I might share with thee thy ev'ry danger, 
Be ever by thy side, and be the first 
On whom mischance might light ; [Trumpet sounds. 

Blnaldo. 

I must away. 

Isabella. 
So soon ! Stay yet a little, little time. 
Oh let me with mine eyes drink up, awhile, 
A little happiness, that it may serve 

My thirstful heart until we meet again. [Trumpet sounds. 
Oh, cruel sound ! When wilt thou send to me 
To tell me thou art well ? 

Rinaldo. 

Each day, each hour, 
If such were possible I Thy father waits ; 
His blessing, now, shall join our hearts in one ; 
So may I claim thee when this war is done ; \_Exeunt. 



ACT II, 



SCENE I. — A room in Bioneo's house. 
DioN£o asleep, and Alessandra. 
Alessandra. 
Within this face, a 1 as ! I read the tale, 
The three months' ta"le, of grief and misery, 
Which his reluctant tongie disjointedly 
Did tell, ere slumber overpowered him. 



scene i.] ISABEL AND RINALDO. 21 

Oh. ! sorrow's creeping o'er all hearts I love, 
And life itself, will in a little while, 
Be but a charnel-house of faded hopes ! 
That sigh again ! Such sleep can give no rest. 
Dioneo ! oh, Dioneo ! wake ! 

Dioneo. 
I have been dreaming, wife, within this hour, 
A century of wrongs. My busy brain 
Doth counsel keep in sleep, and multiplies 
The damning proofs of treachery — 
Alessandra. 

Why dost thou pause ? 
Dioneo. 
I'd for a little time forgot myself, 
'Tis scarce two hours, methinks, since I returned; 
I'd be at home, indeed, with thee to-night, 
From each pestering fancy free my brain, 
And bar our door against this loathsome world 
And all its villainies. 

Alessandra. 

No questioning 
Of mine shall harass thee. 

Dioneo. 

Hath Conrado 
Sent me no messenger ? 

Alessandra. 

He hath not. 
Did he not, then, return with thee ? 
Dioneo. 

Alas! 
I am constrained, dear wife, against my better will, 
To tell to thee the thought which haunts my dreams 



22 ISABEL AND RINALDO. [act n. 

And frights my wakeful hours. Binaldo's dead. 
That too well thou knowest. 

Alessaistdea. 

Yes, and I have mourned 
As for a brother gone. Oh ! tell to me, 
Dioneo, the sad, sad history. 

Dioneo. 

Then list. One mournful night, two months gone by, 

Rinaldo and myself without the camp 

Had strayed. It was a dark and clouded night ; 

No moon, nor star was visible ; and save 

The drowsy tread of distant sentinels, 

Or whirling beetles' every restless drone, 

No sound was heard. And there upon the ground 

We laid us down neglectfully, and side 

By side, with random talk of home, of thee, 

Landolpho, and the fair-haired Isabel, 

The dull and creeping time passed slowly by. 

Suddenly Binaldo cried, ' ' I am slain ! 

Oh, G-od ! some villain here hath murdered me !" 

Affrighted sore, I started from the ground, 

And stooping o'er Rinaldo where he lay, 

Did know these hands were dabbling in the blood 

Fast oozing from his breast. He spoke no more. 

I sounded the alarm, which scarce I'd done, 

When, wounded in the back, I senseless fell. 

Alessandra. 
And yet all this thou'st kept untold till now ! 
Alas ! what must thou have suffered, and I 
Not knowing- it. 



scene i.] ISABELAND RINALDO. 23 

DlONEO 

Our soldiers soon were there, 
As were, too, the enemy's. Confusion 
Followed ; but in the end unto my tent 
They bore me, but not Kinaldo. The spot 
Where he had fall'n was soddened with his blood, 
His body ne'er was found ; but still his death 
By most was credited, and many tears, 
From stern and rugged hearts, did tell the love 
They bore towards him. 

Alessajstdra. 

What a fearful tale ! 
I weep afresh as thou dost tell it me. 
But dost thou think, indeed, Einaldo's dead ? 

Dioweo. 
I fain would hope that he perchance may live. 
On battle-field I've seen a father weep 
His son, beside him, lying dead — a brother 
Wrapped in stolid misery for a brother 
Slain, and friends lamenting o'er friends cut off ; 
But ne'er saw I a grief so terrible, 
As was Conrado'sfor Einaldo's fate. 
Friend's, father's, brother's griefs in his seemed joined 
In one huge stolid misery, tugging 
At his brave heart, as though to rive't asunder. 
At length the thought that his Einaldo yet 
Might live, did streak, with feeble light, his dark 
Despondent heart ; and now with that alone 
To cheer him on his way, doth he pursue 
A chance-directed journey o'er the land, 
To know the end of this foul villainy. 



24 ISABEL AND RINALDO. [act ii. 

Alessandea. 
Poor Isabel ! How can I tell thee this ? 

Dioneo. 
How bore she his death ? 

Alessandra. 
As one death struck herself, 
She fell upon the ground. Three days and nights 
She senseless lay, whilst o'er her death and life 
An equal contest held for mastery. 
I watched beside her. 'Twas a piteous sight 
To see. There her father stood, now peering 
Anxiously at those open fixed eyes 
That knew him not, to see if life were still 
"Within ; and now, with trembling hands, beating 
Gainst his breast, and with mutterings confused, 
Or broken prayers or curses on his head, 
For that he had killed his child. But she did live, 
And reason, too, came feebly wand' ring back 
To its grief- shattered home. But oh ! how sad 
A change was there. In northern climes, 'tis said, 
All living things the dayless winter through, 
Bechilled by Boreas' icy breath, 
Lie senseless and as seeming dead— e'en so, 
Heart-numbed, spell-bound by grief, did now appear 
The lovely Isabel. Listless she moved 
From place to place : Did as her father bade : 
Ah ! had he said — Yield now thy life to me, 
She'd have done it willingly without sigh 
Or murmur ; and in such sad mood as this, 
Landolpho urging it, was she transferred 
To be the bride of our fantastic Duke ! 



scene ii.] ISABEL AND RINALDO. 25 

DlONEO. 

Married to the Duke ? 

AiESSANDRA. 

Ah ! she is now his wife, 
If such a frozen piece of earth of right 
Can bear that name. 

Diokeo. 

Alas ! poor Isabel ! 
Alessandba. 
Poor Isabel, indeed ! 'Twould make thee weep, 
Dioneo, did'st thou behold her now. 
She seldom speaks, and when she does do so, 
Her voice, so gentle once, sounds loud and harsh. 
A sorrowing smile is ever on her lips, 
Whilst her vacant eyes seem praying for a tear, 
The fount of grief being dry, their dying thirst 
To quench ! Oh ! in the palace, oftentimes, 
As I have looked upon her, seated there, 
So pale, so sad, so mute and motionless, 
I have thought, alas ! this is not Isabel, 
But a poor picture of a lonely heart, 
Starving on a golden couch ! 

Dioneo. 
No more of this, I pray thee, love, to-night. 
Soon shall this deed so darksome, see the light ! [Exeunt 



SCENE 11.— Interior of a Cottage. 

ElNALDO. 

How is't Pietro hath not yet returned ? 
Each lagging moment seems a lifelong day ; 



26 ISABEL AND EINALDO. [act n. 

And as a sHv'ring criminal I -wait, 

Uncertain if my doom be life or death ! 

Oh, Isabel, my love ! but send to me 

One little word as a restorative. 

Say thou art well — 'twill serve to make me whole, 

More quickly far, than all the healing salves, 

These two months poured, to my fresh-healed wounds. 

Nurse, I say, good nurse ! 

Enter Nurse. 

My lad Pietro 
Doth not return. To-night I leave thee, nurse. 
Thou must not take it as a fault in me 
I stay not here until thy son's return. 
To him, to thee, I know I owe my life ; 
I must remain thy debtor for awhile. 
How I can requite thy care I know not. 
At least take these ; I would there had been more. 

Nurse,. 
Take these from thee ! No, no, indeed, not I. 
My good man's resting in his grave in peace ; 
He'd not have taken these, were he alive, 
And I'll not take them either. Beneath this hearth 
I have four bright new florins hid, 
And they will serve, when I am dead, to buy me 
Decent burial. No, I want not these. 

ElNAIiDO. 

How old art thou ? 

Nurse. 
I shall be seventy 
When next Shrovetide's here. 

E.USTALDO. 

happy ignorance 
Of this sinful world ! 'Tis a thing most strange. 



scene ii.] ISABEL AND BINALDO. 27 

Recorded let it be in history ! 

To live so long, yet have an honest heart ! 

[Knock at the door. 
Nurse. 
Who's that who knocks ? 

Conrado (without). 

A man, atired and weary. 
Rinaldo. 
God ! I should know that voice, though all the world 
Were speaking in a breath ! Conrado ! oh ! 
Conrado ! [ Opens door. 

Enter Conrado. 
Thou livest ! Thank God ! thank God ! 
Fool ! fool ! I cannot stay these water drops. 

{Exit Ntjrse. 
Rinaldo. 
How was't, Conrado, that thou found' st me here ? 

Conrado. 
I have been searching for thee, lad, these many, 
Many days. 'Twas chance alone that guided me. 
How was it that thy life hath thus been saved ? 

Rinaldo. 
An honest man, a Lucchese soldier, here, 
Nigh dead, did bear me. Here have I been nursed 
And tended until now ; and here I've lived 
Concealed, for fear of hidden treachery. 
The wretch who dealt the blow which he had thought 
My death, did hiss into mine ear, " The Duke 
It is who guidest thus his Bruno's hand." 
Oh, Conrado ! my love, my Isabel, 
Most like doth now believe me to be dead. 



28 ISABEL AND RINALDO. [act h. 

Ah ! this moment that I'm standing here, 

May she, perhaps, all overwhelmed with grief, 

Be pouring forth her wasteful tears in mourning 

For my death. I sent to her Pietro ; 

He returns not. Here I'll no longer stay. 

Though death be certain in my venturing home, 

'Twere better far to die beholding her, 

Than lingering here, in mad perplexity, 

From day to day, away from her I love. 

Conrado. 
Thou must not leave this place. Vile treachery 
Doth stalk abroad, and rules alone our State. 
I'll to Florence and see thy Isabel, 
And return to thee with joyful tidings. 

Binaudo. 
Vain solace to a wretched exile from his love. 
Thou canst not appease the cravings of a starving man 
With idle tales of rich men's feasts — make glad 
The blind, with fancied paintings of the glorious sun — 
Turn hell to heaven, by hymning Paradise 
Unto one that's damned ! 

Enter Nurse. 
Nurse. 
Thy boy Pietro, 
Signior, or these dim eyes deceive me, 
With sluggard steps is creeping up the path 
That leads unto our cot. 

Rinaldo. 
Art sure 'tis so ? 
Yes, yes, 'tis he ! Now Heaven send good news ! 
What ! ho ! Pietro ! Quick ! Oh, quicker, lad ! 



scene ii.] ISABEL AND KINALDO. S 

How tortoise slow lie drags his steps along ! 
Come, boy, come ! 

Enter Pietro. ( He falls exhausted. J 
Nurse. 
Good heavens ! the boy is dead ! 
Conrad o. 
No, no, he doth but faint from weariness. 
Gret thee some water, dame. 

Einaldo. 

This doth presage, 
Alas ! some evil tidings unto me. 
Nurse. 
How ragged and how travel-stained ! Poor boy ! 
His heart, too, how slow it beats ! There, there, there, 
Chafe thee that hand ! His eyes are opening. 
His shoes are cut and torn, and his bare feet 
Are bleeding through. Art hungry, my poor boy ? 

Pietro. 
Oh, CateUa! 

Nurse. 
Who is that he calls ? 
Pinaldo. 
His sister, the Lady Isabella's maid. 

Pietro. 
Oh, master, master !' She's dead ! She's dead ! 
I heard her death-cry as I entered here. 

Einaxdo. 
Dead! 

Conrad o. 
Who is't that's dead ? Speak, boy ! Who is't ! 
What is't you mean ? 



30 ISABEL AND EINALDO. [act n. 

PlETRO. 

Oh ! I left her dying — 
Yes, left her, left her, all alone to die ! 

Conrado. 
Who? Catella! 

PlETO. 

Yes, my poor sister, sir. 

Conrado. 
What ? Binaldo, man, stand not thus amazed ; 
Thy Isabel doth live. 

Binaldo. 

What dost thou say ? 

Coistrado. 
She lives, man ! lives ! Catella 'tis that's dead. 

Binaldo. 
"he lives, indeed ! I thank thee, Heaven, for this. 
Did'st give the Lady Isabel my letters, boy ? 
Did'st see her ? 

Pietro. 
Catella prayed me not ; 
And she did tell me, too, how she did know 
The Duke and Bruno 'twas contrived thy death. 

Binaldo. 
But the Lady Isabel, what of her ? 

Pietro. 
All thought thee dead ; and when a month had passed, 
The Lady Isabel was married to the Duke. 

Enter Nurse, and then exits with Pietro. 

Binaldo. 
Married ! Married ! Did the boy say married ? 

Conrado. 
He did, Binaldo. 



scene ii.] ISABEL AND EINALDO. 31 

EiNALDO. 

Ah ! and to the Duke ? 

Conrado. 
'Twas so, indeed. 

Ah, married to the Duke ! 
Then truth was ne'er a habitant of earth, 
And heaven itself doth lie ! Yile world, 
I'm quit of you, and thus am free ! 

Coneado. 
No, no, \_Snatching away dagger. 
Einaldo, when thy time shall come to die, 
I'd have thee bravely face thy God in heaven, 
And not now, with this thief's picklock ope life's door 
And sneak thee down to hell ! 

Einaldo. 
Thou heartless man ! Thou dost not know the grief 
That's crushing me within. My hell is here — 
Yes, here whilst I live must I henceforth endure 
The toiments of the dtmned ; and each fresh moment 
That I draw breath, a hundredfold and more 
Doth multiply my pains ! Wouldst have live, 
Within a book to write a chronicle 
Of broken vows, and then at last to die, 
Worn out with age, with still my task half done ? 
Thou foolish doctor, what cruel care was thine ; 
Oh, I would fee thee now 
With all the buried treasure of this earth, 
If thou would' st but unheal my healed wounds, 
And let this poor vitality bleed forth afresh ! 

Conrado. 
Can this be he I once did count so brave ! 
Is this, indeed, Einaldo ? It cannot be ! 



32 ISABEL AND EINALDO. [act ii. 

A villain to Einaldo gives a blow, 

And then with treachery doth steal away 

Einaldo' s wife ; and lo ! Einoldo turns, 

With whimpering howl, as a poor base cur 

From a roguish hound no bigger than himself, 

That steals away his breakfast bone. Oh, who 

In Florence would believe it if 'twere told, 

" Coward" and " Einaldo" were coupled in a breath ? 

Einaldo. 
This to me, Conrado ? 

Conrad o. 
Ah boy, and more, 
If thou dost act like this. Art thou a soldier 
And a man ? The Duke hath shed thy blood ; 
Then blood for blood, I say ! The Duke hath stolen 
Thy mistress from thee, and I cry, revenge ! 
Eepay with usury these debts thou ow'st, 
An then, and not till then, a whining minstrel turn, 
And on mawkish ballads blubber forth thy chronicle of woes ! 

Einaldo. 
Thy words are bitter physic unto me. 
Well, then, to Florence ! 

Conrado. 
Ah ! and hundreds there, 
Have scares to settle with thine enemy. 
Yes, he hath wronged us all and all befooled alike — 
Turned us into very puppets in a shew — 
Cried war and victory in our foolish ears — 
Sent us a fool-in- April's journeying 
Abroad, that he at leisure, undisturbed, 
Might forge the chains wherewith to grace our limbs 



scene in.] ISABEL AND RINALDO. 33 

When we return. To Florence then,, at once. 
In secret let us go together. Come ! 

Rinaldo. 
I am content. Be it to live or die, 
It matters not, this Duke will I defy \ 



SCENE III. — Room in the Duke's Palace. 

Enter Landolpho and Attendant. 

Landolpho. 
But I would see the Lady Isabel ; 
A father begs that he may see his child. 

Attendant. 
A sudden pain is so tormenting her, 
To-day, indeed, thou can'st not, Signior. 

Landolpho. 
What ails the girl ? 

Attendant. 

Alas ! I cannot tell. 

Landolpho. 
Thou gav'st the flowers ? 

Attendant. 

Yes ; and as I did so, 
She sadly said — " Like me, they soon will die." 

Landolpho. 
And the pearls, what then? 

Attendant. 

I placed round her ; 
She did chide me for it ; removed them instantly ; 
And, as her tears, pent-up, till now, o'erflowed her woe- 
She cried, in saddest accents of despair — [paled cheeks. 
" Oh ! father ! father ! thus I pay their price !" 



34 ISABEL AND RIXALDO. [act ii. 

And then, a long, long sigh of misery 

Came quivering from her heart, so mournful, 

So profound, it seemed, well nigh, a death-dirge utterance ! 

Laxdolpho. 
Tho may'st retire. 

I humbly take my leave. 

[Exit Attendant. 
Laxdolpho. 
"Why should the girl be ever grieving thus ? 
Hath she not all that women reckon on 
To make her life a sunshine holiday ? 
Yes, at one short bound she hath reached the gaol 
"Which her envious sex would willingly 
Have made their lifelong task to gain. With skill 
Have I contrived this ; and now, forsooth, — 
The base ingrate must her excuses forge, 
As though I were a tiresome creditor 
Soliciting his dues, to keep me thus, 
Her father, from her doors. She's like none else ! 
She, who should be now a very Juno, 
Radiant in her pride, doth fret and grieve 
As though cold friendless poverty were still 
Tormenting us. And yet, a pang at times 
Steals o'er my heart as I behold the girl. 
I cannot bear to meet those eyes of hers ; — 
They gleam irpon me with the like sad look 
Her mother's wore the moment ere she died, 
As though they were reproaching me. But this 
Is an old man's weakness. What's done is done ; 
And what is done, yes, yes, I know, is right. [Exit. 



scene iv.] ISABEL AND BJNALDO. 35 

SCENE IY. — Another room in the Palace. 

Isabella seated. Two Attendants. 
First Attendant. 
Our Lady, sure, with some strange trance is stricken ; 
She hath not moved or spoke, methinks, this hour. 

Second Attendant. 
Shall I now speak to her ? 

First Attendant. 

I pray you do. 
Second Attendant. 
My Lady ! 

First Attendant. 

Oh, she hears you not ! 

Second Attendant. 

My Lady ! 
Isabella. 
Dids't thou speak ? 

First Attendant. 

Shall I sing or play to thee, 
My Lady, but to while away the time ? 

Isabella. 
What is't thou say'st, my girl ? 

First Attendant. 

Shall I now play 
To thee, my Lady ? 

Isabella. 
Play ! No, girl, no ! 
Ye are tired in watching here. Leave me, girls ; 
Leave me, leave me ! — yes, I would be alone. 

[Exeunt Attendants. 
Father, we have done a deed, a wicked deed, 
'Fore God and man ! Yes, I am now awake. 



36 ISABEL AND RINALDO. [act ii. 

I see it all. Had'st thou no pity, father ? 
So soon ! so soon ! When I was steeped so deep 
In misery, that every sense was dead, 
Oh ! was it then a father's part in thee, 
To do by me as thou hast done ? No interval 
Of time accorded me, to think, when I 
Had power, that I might give my poor denial 
To the binding up of this unhallowed compact F 
My cup of misery can ne'er be drained ! 
Drop by drop, each moment of each ling'ring day, 
Doth conscience as a torturing fiend replenish it ! 
My sole sad comfort as the hours creep by, 
To know that I am drawn a little, little nearer to the end ! 
Oh : friendly death ! thou fickle sojourner ! 
Why, oh why did'st thou but loiter here 
Beside my fevered bed, then turn aside 
To be instead the dreaded visitant 
Of happy homes, and leave me friendless here, 
Where I do stay, alone, to welcome thee ? 
Retrace once more thy steps ! Come unto me. 
And I within thy cold embrace would smile, 
As joyously as ere an infant smiled, 
When hushed to slumber in its mother's arms ! 
Enter Duke. 

Duke. [Aside. 

Of such a prize let Jove be envious, 
And beauty's goddess pale with jealousy, 
Outrivalled thus ! Why should I still delay 
To taste of the delicious fruit that I have filched 
So wantonly, and, like a dainty epicure, 
Thus dally with fruition ? Isabel, 



scene iv.] ISABEL AND RINALDO. 37 

My wife, I pray thee cast aside awhile 

These sad distempered fancies of thy brain. 

This grief doth cast its shadow on us all, 

And ev'ry sigh escaping from thy breast 

Doth find its echo in all hearts around. 

Oh ! shed on us, we beg, some little gleam 

Of joy ! We would bind close our people now 

With greetings full of love and household welcomings ; 

Be thou the light to cheer our friendly Court, 

And not the mournful shadow of our State ! 

Isabella. 
I am thy wife — thy most obedient wife. 

Duke. 
Obedient, Isabel ! Speak not so. 
I do not claim of thee obedience : 
I fain would win thy love. 

Isabella. 

My love ; Oh God ! [Aside. 

Duke. 
I say thy love ! 

Isabella. 
It is not in my gift, 
My Lord. Alas ! thou might' st as vainly bid 
The glowworm change with his faint feeble light 
Night's darkness into day, as to solicit me 
To draw from out this wasted heart the love 
Thou'dst have me give ! But pardon me, my Lord, 
Thou must not take amiss what I have said ; 
What's possible I'll do. 

Duke. 
And dost thou think 
That sorrow is the heritage of thee 



38 ISABEL AND EINALDO. [act hi. 

Alone ? Oh, no ; it is a thing which all must bear, 

And princes most of all. Ah yes, indeed, 

If they who most do envy us, could read 

Our thoughts aright, their vexed hearts would turn 

From kingly courts to covet in their stead 

The beggar's heritage of thriftless mirth. 

Isabella. 
Most true — alas ! most true, most true. Ah me, 
I fain would beg of thee that thou wilt suffer me 
To dwell awhile alone with mine own griefs, 
As I have done till now. Oh ! let me yet 
Have some days still to commune with myself. 
Alone ! Alone ! Alone ! — yes, still alone 
Awhile! 

Duke. 
Then, Isabel, my wife, farewell ! 
And oh ! may angels cheer thy rest this night ! 

[Exit Duke. 

Isabella. 
Einaldo, art thou waiting yet for me ? 
I soon must die ! But, oh ! to flee from thee ! 



ACT in. 

SCENE I. — Council Chamber in the Palace. 

Duke, G-eneeal, Landolpho, and others. 
Duke. 
Signior Landolpho, thy counsel's wise, 
And we ourselves, but more especially 
Our State, whose safety we do hold far dearer 
Than ourselves, do owe thee much, in having thus, 
By mere suggestion, brought with our view 



scene i.] ISABEL AND RINALDO. 39 

These secret plottings, newly springing up 

To life against our rule such noisome weeds. 

If they are left unchecked, may grow apace, 

And ripen to a bloody harvest-field 

Of treason 'gainst the State. But thou hast spoke 

Thy thoughts, as yet, in halting phrase, as though 

Thou fear'st to give full utterance to what 

Thou rightly know'st. Speak out thy thoughts ! Fear not ! 

We do absolve thee from all consequence, 

In speaking plainly unto us the blunt 

And saucy grumblings of our Town. 

Half truths are lies which honest cowards tell ; 

And such in times like these, are. treason 'gainst the State ! 

Lajsdolpho. 
Alas ! I fear, my Lord, the discontent 
Is general. 'Tis said — that untried men 
Usurp each place and office in the State ; 
And that this peace with Lucca lately made, 
Is a betrayal of our country's cause ; 
The merchants whine that taxes are imposed, 
By means till now unheard of ; and that loans 
Are oft extorted by unlawful threats 
Of baser wrongs ; of laws and usages 
But made to serve as cruel instruments 
Of wanton cruelty. Such things as these. — 
I beg you pardon me, — are overheard 
By day and night in e'ery public place ; 
Not secretly, but loudly talked by all : 
Each gossip, as he stands beside his shop, 
Speaks openly to his next neighbour thus, 
As tho' he would but kill the idle time, 
In canvassing aloud the morning's news. 



40 ISABEL AND RINALDO. [act hi. 

Duke. 
The discontented hounds ! Had they been but scourged, 
Befrttingly they would now be fawning, 
Whimpering at our feet ! They shall have cause, 
Henceforth, for muttering and for fear, indeed ! 
How stand our troops towards us, General ? 

General. 
Give me but the means wherewith to satisfy 
Their pay now due to them, and add to that, 
Some trifling recompense wherewith to wash 
From out their foolish brains, the memory 
Of the sudden ending of this war, and then, — 
Until their pockets need replenishing, — 
For a month, at least, I'll answer fcr them. 
Some few men there are, of note, whose names 
Are written here, whom I hold dangerous ; 
And these need careful watching. 

Duke. 

Be it, then, 
The care of each of you to watch all signs of danger. 
If ye hear more, unto us instantly 
[Report thyselves ; and so our council's o'er. 
Good morrow, gentlemen ! 

Landolpho. 

Farewell, my Lord. 
\_Exeunt all but Duke and General. 

Duke. 

The drivelling fool ! We must add to these 

A name or two. Stay, General ! Be back 

Within an hour ! And we will then devise 

How best to act. 

[Exit General. 



scene i.] ISABEL AND EINALDO. 41 

Bruno ! Bruno ! I say ! 
Enter Bruno. 
Bruno. 
I am here, my Lord. 

Duke. 
Thou' It find here written, 
The names of those that I would have thee watch. 
Report to us their doings of each day. 
Art sure thy men are trusty, Bruno ? 
Bruno. 

Yes, my Lord, 
As men with cords around their necks can he, 
Whom I alone can save from hanging. Yes, 
I can safely trust them all. 

Duke. 

At once 
Away ! 

Bruno. 
Amongst the names here writ, my Lord, 
I do not see our General's, 

Duke. 

Fear nought. 
He's safely hound to us. His hands have clutched 
Of Lucchese gold too much, that we should fear 
Of him. Away ! 

[Exit Bruno. 
This knave is worth them all \ 

[Exit Duke. 



42 ISABEL AND KLNALDO. [act in. 

SCENE II. — Apartment in the Palace. 

Isabella. 

Enter Attendant. 

Attendant. 

The Lady Alessandra doth, desire 

To speak with thee, my Lady. 

Isabella. 

Thou may'st bid 
The Lady Alessandra unto me. 

[Exit Attendant. 

Enter Alessandra. 

Alessandra, dearest, thou art welcome. [together ! 

What ! What is this ? In tears \ Would that could weep 

Alessandra. 

Oh my dearest Isabel, 

Poor Catella's dead ! 

Isabella. 

Dead ! Oh, happy girl ! 
How I do envy her ! 

Alessandra. 

Yes, she is dead. 
But oh ! 'tis not for her I weep ! 
Isabella. 

What now ? 
Alessandra. 
Last night I visited Martellino's wife : 
Returning thence, near midnight, as I reached 
My home, an aged crone, crouched by the door, 
Shrieked forth : — " There's one hard by, before she dies, 
" Would speak to thee. I have waited long ; Quick ! 
" Follow me !" With that, she clutched me by the arm. 
And half beseeching, half enforcing me, 



scene ii.] ISABEL AND RINALDO. 43 

Let me, my attendant following, 

To a loathsome lane, hard by the prison-house ; 

There, in a hovel, lit dully by a flickering torch, 

Hard fighting 'gainst the wind, the dank cold 'earth 

And some mouldering straw, her only bed, 

And stretched by her side, a child, new-born, naked, 

Dead, a dying woman lay ! 

At first she did not speak, but looked on me 

With death's brief -lust' ring eyes ; how long, I know not. 

At last, of a sudden, she sat erect, 

And propped against the wall, she then hoarsely 

Whispered forth — " You do not know Catella. 

"I am she. Swear to me that you will give 

" My lady, what I now give you." And then, 

With her gaunt hand, did she stretch feebly forth 

A crucifix, which as she bade, I kissed, 

And swore to what she asked. With that she placed 

This paper in my hand, and gasping, said, 

" Go tell my lady, I, when dying, gave it you, 

" And as I hope for mercy from above, 

" All here that's writ is true. Now leave me quick !" 

And then a wild delirium seized her. 

I left the place, and as I did do so, 

Half -uttered curses 'gainst one Bruno, 

Rattling in the woman's throat, appalled mine ears. 

Some two hours afterwards, the wretched creature died ! 

Now must thou nerve thy heart to hear a thing, 

To gladden, yet I fear, to torture thee. 

Isabella. 
Oh, nought that thou can'st tell to me, can bring 
Or joy or grief ! 



44 ISABEL AND ELNALDO. [act iii. 

AlESSANDRA. 

But list ! as I read this : 

[She reads paper. 
" Bruno's tale was false. The Duke and Bruno both 
" contrived the plot. It was the Duke urged Bruno 
" on to take Rinaldo's life. Landolpho knew that 
" Bruno's tale was false. Chance alone prevented 
" it. Rinaldo is not dead." [Isabella falls senseless. 

That "not dead " hath killed her ! Isabella ! 
Speak ! How foolish was't, to tell her thus ! 
Had I best crj for help ? No ! no ! She moves ! 

Isabella. 
What was't I heard ? Thou told'st me something ! 

AlESSAjSTDRA. 

Einaldo lives ! Rinaldo lives, indeed ! 
I know that this is true ! 

Isabella. 

Lives ! I seem myself 
New risen from the grave, hearing these blessed words ! 
I breathe once more ! Binaldo lives indeed ! 

Alessandra. 
He does I He does ! 

Isabella. 
Thank God ! Thank God ! Thank God ! 
Where — where is he ? 

Ales sandra. 

Near Lucca, we do think. 
Isabella. 
'Tis passed ! 'tis passed ! Oh wretched life farewell ! 
I'll seek me out a grave — an unknown grave, 
Afar, where thy upbraiding eyes, Einaldo, 



scene ii.] ISABEL AND EINALDO. 45 

Can never, never look in mine ! Oh God ! 
They told me thou wert dead, Einaldo ! 
Einaldo ! Einaldo ! Oh, Einaldo ! 

ALES SANDRA. 

Those tears will comfort thee. 

Isabella. 

Let's see ! Let's see » 
[She takes paper from Alessandra and reads. 
" Landolpho knew that Bruno's tale was false." 
My father knew that Bruno's tale was false ! 
My father knew't ! Oh my God ! Marian ! 
Oh Marian ! here ! 

Enter Attendant. 

Bid my father here \ 
Quick ! Quick \ Begone ! Make haste, I say ! 

[Exit Attendant. 
Alessandra. 
Oh hear me, hear me, dearest Isabel ! 

Isabella. 
Peace ! Peace awhile ! 

Enter Landolpho. 

Leave us together ! Quick ; 

[Exit Alessandra. 
Oh father, father, in heaven's name say, 
That these things are not true ! 

Landolpho. 

What things, my child ? 
Isabella. 
Thou did'st have me wed, this man, the Duke, 
My husband, knowing that Einaldo lived ? 

Landolpho. 
Be calm, and hear me. 



46 ISABEL AXD EINALDO. [act m. 

Isabella. 

Calm ! I'st true or false ? 
Speak, " Yes !" or " No !" for I am going mad ! 

Laxdolpho. 
Be seated nere and listen. 

Isabella. 

Good heavens : 
'Tis true ! 'Tis true ! 'Tis true ! 
Laxdolpho. 

My dearest child — 
Isabella. 
I'm not thy child ; I rather would "believe 
My mother, in heaven, had been false to thee, 
Than that thou, my father, had a heart so base 
As thus deceive thy child ! 
Einaldo ! Oh Einaldo ! Come to me ! 
Avenge this cursed plot • 

Laxdolpho. 

Be silent, child. 
Isabella. 
Silent : I'll silent be no more • No ; no ! 
I will proclaim my wrongs, both day and night, 
Unceasingly, ah • in the public streets, 
That all that have one grain of pity in their hearts 
May hear, and hearing, loathe thy wickedness, 
And cry out shame upon thee as they cross 
Thy path ; oh ! I will tell this thing to all, 
Until the very vilest of our kind 
Shall learn to loathe a trick so infamous, 
And raise their vengeful arms in mutiny 
Against this cut-throat Duke 



scene ii.] ISABEL AND BINALDO. 47 

Enter Attendant. 

Attendant. 
The Duke, my lady,. desires thy presence. 

Isabella. 
Go tell the Duke that I desire his presence here ! 
Dost thou hear ? Away ! and do my bidding ! 
Exit Attendant. 

Landolpho. 
Oh ! dearest Isabel, let not passion thus 
O'ermaster thee ; what is done, cannot now 
Be remedied ; the Duke would have it so ; 
We could not but obey, for life or death 
Doth rest with him. Oh \ thou art the noblest 
In our State and all — 

Isabella. 
I prithee, Signior, do not talk to me ; 
Thy tongue doth wag in vain ; thy lips, I see, 
Do move ; mine ears do catch some empty sound, 
But what thy words import, I know not ; my wrongs 
Are far too great thy musty logic of the world 
To chew. Your atheist proves there is not Grod ! 
Binaldo lives ! and lo ! your wordy saws 
Straight vanish into air, as imps of darkness do, 
At break of day ! 

Landolpho. 

Oh Isabel ! my child • 
Thy father's life — thine own ; ah, yes, indeed, 
Binaldo' s too — if yet Binaldo lives — 
Hang but on a thread, which a word from thee 
May sever ! On my knees I beg of thee, 
To pause in this wild utterance 'gainst the Duke ! 



48 ISABEL AND MNALDO. [act in. 

Isabella. 
He comes ! He comes j He stands before us now \ 
The princely bungler at th' assassin's trade » 

Duke. 
What means this tone, thus lacking of respect ? 

Isabella. 
Respect ! Respect » • I ne'er was taught to shew 
Respect for villains, or to call devils 
But by their proper names ! I know full well, 
Thou hast the power to kill ; but whilst I've life, 
The world shall know the monster that thou art ! 
For lo ! Rinaldo's self hath risen from the grave, 
With twenty several gashes on his breast, 
Poor open-mouthed and bleeding witnesses 
To tell the world the murderer that thou art ! 

Dueie. 
What meanest thou ? What wild words are these ? 

Isabella. 
Touch me not ! Oh Grod ! that murderous hand 
Would send my life's blood spluttering from my heart, 
As burning faggots would a martyr's at the stake \ 

Duke. 
How beautiful she looks, as thus she raves » [Aside. 

Can Bruno have deceived us ? Can this boy, 
The young Rinaldo, be alive, indeed ? 
Perchance it may be so. Let her rage on, 
This storm of words will soon, per force, be spent ! 

Isabella. 
'Tis told in Holy Writ, how once heaven's wrath 
Did strike a perjurer dead ; and never yet, 
Since man did dwell on earth, was crime so great as this ! 



scene in.] ISABEL AND RINALDO. 49' 

And yet this monster lives ! This loathsome marriage, 
By fraud contrived — with perjury sealed — 
With dying groans of murdered men polluting it, 
'Fore God and man is void, and thus do I dissolve it ! 

[Throws down ring and coronet and exit. 
Duke. 
Signior Landolpho, we confide her 
To thy keeping. Let her be closely watched. 
It were not for her safety, nor our own, 
That these disjointed follies should be noised abroad. 
Keep safe ! or thine own life shall answer f or't \ 

[Exit Landolpho. 
Enter General. 
How now General ? What's the news abroad ? 

General. 
'Tis time, my Lord, to act. Fresh dangers rise ; 
Or they who now, in darkness only plot, 
Will shortly shew their treasons to the day ! 

Duke. 
If they will have it so, we say — amen ! 
To-morrow's morn must shew the world aright, 
The work of blood, in mercy done, to-night ! 

[Exeunt. 



SCENE III. — A Room in a Citizen's Mouse. 

Enter Dioneo, Conrado, Albert, Citizens, &c. 
Conrado. 
I tell thee no, Dioneo, each hour 
That we stand here, see-sawing in debate, 
Adds a whole year unto the tyrant's power ! 
Our wavering troops are ripe for mutiny ; 



50 ISABEL AND RINALDO. [act in. 

To-morrow, who can tell what change may come ! 

I say to-night ! Yes, give thee bnt the word, 
And I will have five hundred swords at work, 
And half our business done, before the moon is up ! 

Albert. 
Conrado speaks my mind. Our citizens 
But wait for leadership ! Let but Dioneo cry 

II Up ! citizens, to arms for liberty !" 

And, quick as beacon fire, the words will fly, 
And bring around us in an hour at most, 
A thousand citizens and more, well armed. 

Martellino. 
And I, too, say — let's strike the blow at once. 
The Duke hath now his purse well tilled with Lucchese 
And that's a poison, which, if he hath time [gold.* 

To minister aright, will paralize 
The arms of many who'd fight for us to-night. 

Dioneo. 
To-night, so be it then ! Thou, Conrado, 
Bring up our soldiers to the market place — 
Martellino, see that the bell of Santa Croce 's rung 
At the appointed hour ! Binaldo leads 
The palace troops. He should be here by now. 
What noise is that ? [Swords clashing below. 

[Conrado opens window. 
Conrado. 

The lad himself, methinks ! 
Yes, 'tis he ! 'tis he ! There are three men, too, 
That press upon him, and a woman's form 
Is stretched upon the ground and clinging unto him, 
As if for help. "Well parried lad ! Again, 

Well parried too ! Let's down and lend him aid ! 

[Exeunt. 



scene iv.] ISABEL AND EINALDO. 51 

SCENE IN.— Street before Citizen's house. 

Einaldo and Isabella, Lanlolpho, Bruno and Soldiers. 

Enter from Souse Conrado, followed by Dioneo, 

Martelllno, Albert and others. 

Conrado. 

Hold ! Hold ! I say ! So it is best ! What means 

This mad encounter here ? Einaldo too ! 

Einaldo. 
Yes, and I would crave thy help, Conrado, 
To save the Lady Isabella here 
From these vile ruffians. 

Dioneo and others. 

What the Duchess ! 
The Lady Isabella ! 

Bruno [to Soldier. 

Follow them 
Till I return, and then we will enmesh them all 
In one brave draught at once. 

[Exit Bruno. 
Isabella. 

Oh Einaldo ! 

ElNALDO. 

Fear nought, my Lady. Thou art safe from harm. 

Dioneo. 
Conduct Her Grace, the Duchess, to the palace 
Good Conrado. 

Isabella. 

To the palace, sayst thou ! 
Oh no ! not there ! I flee from thence ! 
Flee from the Duke, the man that was my husband. 



52 ISABEL AND RLNALDO. [act in. 

Oil I pray unto ye all to find me out 

Some secret, safe abode, far, far away 

From yonder dreadful place. The tainted air 

Within the Palace, teams with whispering horrors, 

And voices — whether from heaven or hell, I know not, 

Do speak to me of strange and direful means 

Wherewith to cleanse the earth of all my wrongs 

And their foul Minister ! Oh lead me, lead me 

To the Church's Sanctuary ; oh there, 'tis said, 

That devils themselves dare not commit their trespasses. 

Good Father Ambrose there — God's holy priest — 

Will shelter me ! Einaldo, by the love 

Thou once did'st bear me, lead me, lead me there : 

Einaldo. 
I will do so, lady. 

Laistdolpho. 

Oh Isabel ! 
Have pity on thy old father ! Hear me ! 
Return, return with me, if thou would' st save 
Thy father's life ! 

Isabella. 

Old man, I know thee not ! 
Dioneo. 
Conduct Her Grace, Einaldo, then, at once 
Unto the holy Sanctuary, 
And there confide Her Grace unto the care 
Of our good Father Ambrose. So lead on ! 
To Santa Croce ! 

Enter Betjxo and Soldiers. 
Bruno. 
Down upon them all ! 



scene iv.] ISABEL AND KINALDO. 53 

CoiSTRADO. 

Dar'st thou show here once more thy felon face ? 
Come on, I say ! 

RlNALDO. 

What oh ! for Santa Croce ! 

Bruno. 
Seize, seize npon them all, alive or dead ! 
Down with them all ! 

RnSTALDO. 

Santa Croce ! Santa Croce ! 

\Ex eunt fighting. 



ACT IY. 

SCENE I.— The Sanctuary of the Church. 

Isabella, Resaldo (wounded), Priests and others. 
Enter Father Ambrose. 

Father Ambrose. 
The clash of arms, the shouts of combatants, 
And cries, alas ! as though of wounded men, 
Still, still, in the far distance do I hear ! 
And these men fight and cut each others' throats, 
And yet are styled in Christendom good Christian men ! 
Oh heavenly Father wilt thou suffer yet, 
These things to be within a Christian land ! 
Weep not thus, my daughter, but place thy trust 
In heaven alone ! Thou must not suffer 
Thy thoughts to dwell too earnestly on things of earth, 
Nor let thy heart too fondly cling to one, 
Whom now 'twere sinful in thee to hold dear. 



54 ISABEL AND EINALDO. [act rv. 

Poor erring soul, I pity thee ! Alas ! 

Thou hast been foully wronged ! nor could I hope, 

'Mid this sad scene, that thou would' st have the power 

To cleanse thy bosom of its wrath and bitterness 

Against the instruments who have caused thy grief ; 

But time will heal thy bruised heart and day by day 

Will sweet religion pour its healing balm 

Upon thy troubled soul and bring to thee 

The only happiness which frail mortality 

Can know on earth ! 

Isabella. 

The pallor, now, of death hath passed away, 

And life once more sits ruddy on his lips ! 

I do not think this wound is dangerous. 

Let but this dreadful night be passed, dear Father, 

Einaldo safe, and then, all earthly things 

I'll banish from this brain, and thou shalt tutor me 

In all godlike ways. I am too troubled now 

To list thy words aright. 

Father Ambrose. 

To-morrow daughter 

We will find for thee a tranquil refuge 

From this vain world and all its fruitless cares 

Within the Convent of Saint Catherine. 

Isabella. 
Thanks, Holy Father, thanks. 

Elxaldo. 

Isabel, that cup ! 

Isabella. 
I am here. Thy wound, how fares it with thee ? 

Klnaldo. 
'Tis nought. Come nearer unto me. Thy hand ! 



scene i.] ISABEL AND ELNALDO. 55 

Isabella. 
No, no, it cannot be r I must away t 
'Tis torture to me now to hear thy voice ! 
Oh, Heaven, pardon me \ Keep still, keep still ! 
Poor sinful heart, keep still ! Oh do not speak so gently ! 

Bijstaldo. 
I know, alas ! thy piteous story ! 
Yes, Isabel ! and all the misery 
Thou hast endured. Who can tell the fortune 
Of this night. Death is stalking in our midst, 
And I may be amongst his fated guests, 
Before to-morrow's morn. Let this then seal, 
Dear Isabel, forgiveness for what's passed. [Kiss, 

Isabella. 
It is too much » Fool ! Fool \ God help me ! 

Father Ambrose. 
Oh ! with pity now look down, sweet Heaven, 
On these poor erring souls ! 

Enter Priest and Pietro. 

What tidings now ? 

Priest. 
'Tis said that Martellino hath been slain — 
That still Conrado, in the market place, 
Doth make his stand, but half his comrades slain. 
Some twenty armed men and more, in haste, 
With Bruno at their head, are marching here, 
And it is feared that they'll attack this place. 

Father Ambrose. 
Let the gates be barred ! Fear not, my children ! 
The Church's holy walls will shelter ye. 



56 ISABEL AND KINALDO. [act iv 

There hath been civil strife and bloodshed oft 
Within our town, in times gone by, but ne'er 
Did desperate man, with murderous hand, 
Within this holy sanctuary dare to trespass ! 

[Knocking without. 

Bruno — ( Without.) 
Good Father, ope the door ! The Duke commands 
The delivery unto us at once 
Of Her Grace the Lady Isabella. 
So Father Ambrose, quick, and ope the door ! 
Dost hear ? It is the Duke's command ! 

Father Ambrose. 

The Duke 
Is not my Lord ! I am God's servant only, 
And this my Master's mansion ! 
At no man's bidding will I ope the door ! 

Bruno. 
Then we must smoke thee from thy hole. What, ho • 
The torches there ! 

Father Ambrose. 

Retire within our Church, 
My children. There we'll offer up our prayers, 
That Heaven may shelter us in this our need. 

[Exeunt all but Father Ambrose and Priest. 

If thou can'st escape from hence, unseen — 
Thou may'st perhaps contrive it yet — 
By the Church's postern gate — fly thee with this, 
Thou know'st to whom thou should' st deliver it — 
The lives of all may hang upon thy speed ! 

[Exeunt severally. 



scene ii.] ISABEL AND EINALDO. 57 

SCENE II.— Room in Palace. 
Enter Duke. 

Duke. 
I did not think, forsooth, this pensive wench 
Had snch a merry devil in her soul. 
Plague upon her ! The wagging of her tongue 
Hath done me more mischief in this strife 
Than twenty of their swords ! Should I hate her ? 
No ! I've had her here till now, a beauteous prize 
To please my fantasy, and she shall be 
My pliant plaything yet, whilst still her beauty's on her ! 

Enter Bruno. 
What, hast thou not brought back our fugitive ? 

Bruno. 
The priests refused us entrance to the church, 
Or to the Sanctuary, or to deliver up 
Their inmates. We strove to force our entrance ; 
Whilst doing this, a swarm of citizens, 
Well armed, attacked us, and, outnumbered far, 
We were compelled at length to leave the place. 
I've sent fresh troops to make th' attack anew ; 
The priests urge on the people to revolt ; 
In countless numbers do they fill the streets ; 
The Lady Isabella and Hinaldo's names 
I hear repeated now by each man's tongue : 
Yes, and as the rabble's rallying cry, 
" Isabel and Einaldo," rends the air! 

Duke. 
We must in person see to this. Get thee 
My breastplate, and — this sword's too light for use. 



58 ISABEL AND RINALDO. [act rv. 

So, that's well. 'Sdeath, from Adam's time till now 
Men's every danger sprang from woman's foolery. 
Quick, to the courtyard summon thee, at once, 
Our guard and officers \ 

[Exeunt severally* 



SCENE in.— Interior of Church. 
Father Ambrose, Isabella, Bixallo, Pietro, Priests and 
others. 
( 'Noise without and, then shouts J. 
Eather Ambrose. 
Not in vain our prayers ! Aid comes at last ! 
Phillippo, see thee if these men without, 
Are they indeed in whom we trust for help, 
If so, unbar the doors. 

Exit Philippo. 
Oh heaven grant 
That this unholy strife may now be stayed ! 

Enter Citizens armed, with them Bruno disguised. 
Father Ambrose. 
For this relief we thank ye, friends. 
First Citizen. 

Good Father, 
Whilst we have life, will we defend this place 
From outrage. 

Second Citizen. 
Here for thirty years from thee 
Have we been taught what's dearer than our lives, 
And here, will take our stand and willingly 
Yield up our lives to shield our Church or thee 
From harm. 



scene in.] ISABEL AND RINALDO. 59 

Citizens, together. 
Yes, with our lives we'll shelter thee ! 

Einaldo. 
I can no longer stay inactive here. 
One half onr numher will suffice to hold 
Our Church in safety. Outnumbered by the foe, 
Conrado holds his desperate stand ! No, 
He shall not fall unsuccoured ! Oh this wound, — 
The part assigned to me this night undone, — 
Perchance hath ruined all ! 

\_Trumpet sounds, Bruno unbars door. 
Enter Duke and followers. 
Father Ambrose. 

What treachery is this ? 
Isabella. 
Einaldo, save me ! Save me from this man ! 

[Isabella and Eustaldo stand together bg the altar, Priests 
surround them. Father Ambrose stands in front 
with a cross in Ms hand. 
Duke. 
Friends ! good evening all, and unto thee 
Especially, our saintly Father Ambrose. 
Father Amrbose. 
What means this sacrilege, thou impious man ? 

Duke. 
Gently, Sir Priest, we've not come here this night 
To bandy words of fire with thee, and so 
Let not thy passion thus o'ermaster thee. 
We have sent to thee our trusty officer, 
Demanding that you make deliverance 
Of this fair lady here ; our wife, the Duchess ; 



60 ISABEL AND EINALDO. [act iv. 

With discourteous words thou greet' st our messenger, 

Defy our power and dar'st refuse to us 

Entrance to the Church's sanctuary. 

What ! speak' st thou to us of sacrilege ! 

'Tis thou, base man, I tell to thee, 'tis thou 

Whose presence here pollutes this holy place ! 

Yes, thou impious Priest, that holdeth here, 

As thou dost say, commission from on High 

This temple to preserve in purity, 

'Tis thou that now art basely suffering it, 

Oh sacrilege most vile ! to be a stew 

Wherein th' adulteress unblushingly, 

Doth greet her paramour, and 'fore the gaze — 

The common gaze of every vulgar clown, 

Parades her crime, making a public show 

Of her dishonour', ah and of our own ! 

Ben-aldo. 

Hold off thy hands ! Thou shalt not breathe on earth 
These lies from hell ! 

(Priests stay Pen"aldo from attaching the DuKE.y 
Isabella. 

Oh Heavens ! Holy Father, 
I must speak or silent shall I fall down dead ! 
Within this Church, before the altar where, 
From childhood until now I've offered up 
My prayers, here, before this holy man, 
Heaven's holy priest, 'fore Heaven itself, 
Before whose everlasting throne I soon 
Must stand, I swear before ye all, before my Grod, 
This man doth lie ! 



scene in.] ISABEL AND KINALDO. 61 

Duke. 
A woman's tongue ever waxeth loudest 
The lower she doth sink in crime ! 
What maddening drugs have ye administered, 
Yile priests of Baal, that the devil thus 
Possesses her ? Seize upon the woman 
And her vile minion instantly ! I'll brook 
No more delay ! 

[Duke and soldiers advance towards the altar. 
Father Ambrose. 

Back, ye impious men ! 
The Lady and the Signior here, are mine, 
Consigned to my care ; the trust I hold 
Is sacred ; let no one dare profane it ! 
For their safe keeping am I accountable 
To the Most High, and with life will I 
Fulfil my trust, protect and shield them ! 
Back ! back ! I say ! if ye indeed do hold 
Your everlasting souls of worth ! Back ! back ! 
Or excommunicate shall be ye all ! 
Accursed of God, abhorred and loathed of men, 
The wrath of heaven, here and hereafter, 
On your souls ! Hence ! Hence ! If ye advance, 
Ah it must be by piercing first this breast ! 
Strike here, and with that blow the curse of heaven 
Alight, upon ye all ! 

Duke. 

Give place • Give place I 
Thou foolish man ! Give place ! 

Father Ambrose. 

No, no, I say ! 
By heaven ! I will not ! 



62 ISABEL AND EINALDO. [act v. 

Duke 

Take then the death 
Thou court' st ! 

[Stabs him. 
Father Ambrose. 
I go unto my Lord and Saviour ! 

[Dies. 
[Bjnaldo tries to attach the Duke, but falls from weakness # 
Citizens and Soldiers fight. Citizens are at length driven 
out. Priests surround the body of Father Ambrose. 
Duke. 
Thy husband waits for thee, my Lady Isabel ! 

[Enter Messenger with letter. 
Martellino's fled ! So then our labour's o'er, 
Merrily, gentlemen, will we now sup together ! 



ACT Y. 

SCENE I. — Prison and Palace. 
Einaldo. 
And thus this sorry game of life's played out, 
And o'er my grave, within a little hour, 
This cozener counts his gains ! Be it so ; 
I am content. What now were life to me, 
But one sad, sorrowing, starless night, 
No ray of hope illumining j But oh ! 
Isabel — will heaven indeed allow't ? 
Consigned to gasp a captive life away, 
'Mid the polluted air of this foul murderer's den ! 
Oh God ! must I, when wakened unto endless life — 



scene i.] ISABEL AND BINALDO. 63 

Through all the dread futurity of time — 

Through all the oeons of eternity, 

Have this dire thought, a ceaseless misery 

An everlasting horror there, to gnaw upon my heart ? 

Enter Soldier. 
Thy downcast eyes, friend, have already told 
Thy untold message unto me. Is't so ? 

I am to die ? 

Soldier. 

Signior, the truth is told ! 
Rinaldo. 

And when ? 

Soldier. 
This night ! Within an hour ! 
Rinaldo. 
"Within an hour I'll be in readiness, 
To take my journey hence ! 
Had'st thou, not I, to play this final scene, 
In life's poor fitful tragedy, thou might' st, perhaps, 
With freer heart, enact thy part, 
Did'st thou but surely know, thy latest word, 
When death's dark curtained pall is drawn o'er all, 
Would reach that dear and only one, who'd shed 
A tear of sorrow o'er thy turf green-bed. 
If thou can'st have it so, let me then sleep 
Beside Conrado, where he takes his rest ; 
And when within my cold and careless grave I'm laid, 
Have you there writ these words for epitaph : 
" I wait thy coming !" 

Soldier. 

This to do, I swear, 
Upon this soldier's cross, my father kissed, 
In battle as he died ! [Kissing sword hilt. 



64 ISABEL AND RINALDO. [act v. 

ElNALDO. 

And give you, this, 
Unto the Lady Isabel. [ Gives packet. 

Soldiek. 

I will ! 

ElNALDO. 

I thank thee, friend. Now leave me for awhile. 

{Exit Soldier. 
Oh Father Ambrose, if thy sainted soul, 
Doth linger yet on earth, oh now come unto me, 
And we will pray together ! 

{Scene closes. 



SCENE II.— Room in Palace. 
Isabella. 
Death ! Death ! The mournful wind, 
Methinks, moans forth the word, and solemnly 
From Santa Croce's tower, 'tis syllabled, 
As the hours die out ! The forms, the ghastly forms, 
Of those before me, slain this night, seem now 
Around me hovering, and with uplifted arms 
To motion me to join their dismal crew ! 
No way but this to 'scape my soul's pollution. 
From heaven is the mandate brought to me ! 
Yes ! Yes ! These precious drops were sent to me, 
To free me from all stain of earth ! Marian ! 

{Produces viol ofpoiso; 
Enter Attendant. 
These men without, do they yet guard the doors ? 

Attendant. 
They do, my Lady. 



scene n.] ISABEL AND BINALDO. 65 

Isabella. 

To their chief I'd speak. 

\JExit Attendant. 
Could prayers, could tears avail, these stubborn knees 
I yet would bend in supplication 
For Rinaldo's life ! Oh ! of what avail 
To do't ? As well entreat the forest snake 
T' unloose his deadly coil ; the sea- wolf gape 
His horrid jaws to set his victim free, 
As speak of pity to this murtherous man ! 

Enter Guard, 
When is this work of blood to be ? This night ? 

Guard. 
E'en now, my Lady, in the Court below, 
The guard for its sad task is mustering. 

Isabella. 
It is the Duke's command I do not quit 
This place ? 

Guard. 
Such, my Lady, are the Duke's commands. 

Isabella. 
I'd see the Duke : conduct me unto him ! 

Guard. 
The Duke is now within the banquet hall, 
There, with his officers, he holds his feast. 

Isabella. 
Then I will join him there. I've that to say 
Which doth concern him nearly, and to him 
I must at once impart. 

Guard. 

I'll conduct thee 
To his presence. 



66 ISABEL AND KINALDO. [act t. 

Isabella. 

I'll be without anon. 
Thou may'st retire. 

[Exit Guard. 

No, not companionless 
Must thou journey hence, Einaldo ! Together 
Will we travel on our way ! I'll not pause 
Or ponder here, lest irresolute thoughts 
Should creep within this heart, and drench with fear 
My better purposes ! 

Enter Landolpho. 
Landolpho. 

Oh Isabel, 
My child, list my words, I beg of thee ! 

Isabella. 

What need of words wherewith to prick me now ! 

The silence of the grave were fitter for this time, 

When hell doth violate night's holy armistice, 

Drenching thus, with innocent blood, the ground 

On which we tread ! The devil and his crew 

Here hold that feast, the headsman their cupbearer ! 

Oh ! I have seen this night the deaths of many ; 

The life's blood both of young and aged men 

Doth rankly steam within my nostrils still ; 

And I do think these things, which perplexed fancy 

In my whirling brain each moment re-enacts, 

May steal me from my sorrow too. So father, 

Let me, e'en now, whilst life remain eth here, 

Have thee to know that Isabel forgives 

In thee all things now past. Remember this, 



scene in.] ISABEL AND RINALDO. 67 

That if by chance it haps this sorry life 
Should cease, and thou art left without me here, 
No word that I have idly spoke this night, 
May harrass thee ! Father, farewell, till we shall meet 

[again • 
Landolpho. 
Farewell ! and may untroubled sleep, my child, 
Befresh thy soul this night. [Exit Landolpho. 

Isabella. 

Amen ! Amen ! to that ! 
Binaldo ! I am ready ! 

[Opens door. 

Now lead me to the Duke ! [To Soldier without. 

[Exit. 



SCENE HI.— Banquet Sail in Palace. 

Duke, Landolpho, Officers and others. 

Duke. 
So now our toils being o'er, we will our State 
Awhile surrender, and with careless hearts, 
As fellow soldiers, we will end the night 
In merriment. Let us then drink our thanks 
To our fair Florence's safety ! 

. All. 

Unto our Duke, 
Long life, and to our fair Florence's safety ! 

Duke. 
With forged tears, with halting utterance, [Aside. 

And trashy talk of pity on my tongue, 



68 ISABEL AND RINALDO. [act v. 

I'll mask, as jet, my sterner purposes. 

We thank yon, friends, and yet though, we do feel 

In joyous mood with you surrounding us, 

Sad thoughts, unsummoned, rise to mar our joys. 

Alas ! these men, whom we, to-night, have sent 

To their account, were yet our subjects once, 

And for their loss we grieve ! 

Offices. 

Think not of them, 
My Lord. Their fate had been our own, had'st thou 
With pitying folly stayed our arms. 

Duke. 
With voice unanimous, ye have adjudged 
That young Rinaldo's life is forfeited, 
And we, as is most just, by you are swayed ; ■ 
We would have spared that life. Heaven knows, 
We once did love him as our son. Oh God, 
That it were safe to act with mercy — yes, — 
And banish him alone our State ! 

2nd Officer. 

In doing so 
You risk a hundred lives, perchance as fair 
As his, and new conspiracies afresh will rise 
To prove the cruelty of compassion now ! 

Duke. 

What thou dost say we sadly know is truth, 
But wish, alas, it were not ! 

Enter Messenger. 

Speak, man, speak ! 



scene in.] ISABEL AND RINALDO. 69 

Messenger. 
These men without the northern gate, my Lord, 
Again are gathering. The General 
Hath sent me unto thee to tell thee this. 

Duke. 
But doth he need our aid ? 

Messenger. 

I but bear to thee 
This message to excuse his absense here. 

Dttke. 
Thou may'st retire. 

[Exit Messenger. 

Now by the Gods, indeed • 
Our anger is aroused • Whilst yet our lips 
Had words of gentle mercy half pronounced, 
This news is brought. To speak of mercy now, 
As ye have said, were madness of a fool ! 
The sword, alone, of justice must be drawn 
To-night. Yes, this traitor now within our power 
Must be at once despatched, that we the speedier 
Stop this new-fanned fray, and I do charge thee 
That thou see'st this done. But stay, before dies, 
"We'd have the man before us. Lead him hither. 

[Exit Soldier. 
Oh that this heart were stone, that we aside 
Might unheeded cast the pitying prayers 
Assailing us within. It must not be ! - 
Alas, alas, this man must surely die ! 

Enter Bjnaldo, guarded. 
If yet thou wilt confess thy guilt, retract 



70 ISABEL AND KLNALDO. [act v 

The falsehoods manifold, which, thou hast dared 
To utter 'gainst our person and our State — 

Restaldo. 
I was bid forth to die. I am prepared ; 
But I would die with an unruffled soul, 
No devil, such as thou, to scare my thoughts 
From heaven. With thee I will speak no word •' 

Duke. 
Dar'st thou confront us thus ! 

RlXALDO. 

Lead on at once : 

Miter Isabella, unobserved. 

She pours poison into a cup. 

Isabella. 

I hear, my Lord, that thou hast bid this man 

To take a long, long journey hence. 

I've come to join with thee in bidding him 

Farewell. I do confess to many things 

By me, this night, committed. "What is past 

Be passed away from thought. It was not right, 

My Lord, in thee to keep thy wife away 

From thy festivities ! But let me thus 

This wine-cup drain and drink the victor's cause ! 

[_She drinks. 
Now would I take my last farewell on earth 

Of this poor man. 

Duke. 
Take then thy wish. Be brief ! 
Isabella. 
Drink of this, as I have done, Einaldo, 
If thou would' st scape thy death from this vile man, 
And take that death with me ! 



scene in.] ISABEL AND KXNALDO. 71 

KlNALDO. 

Unlooked-for joy ! 

This cup of happiness to have from thee ! 

[He drinks. 

Isabella. 
Thou hast spoken truth. Yes, thy death is in't ! 

Duke. 
Isabel, my wife, thou must now retire. 

Isabella. 
Peace* ! Peace ! I say, abhorred monster. Peace ! 
I am no wife to thee ! [She falls. 

Out of my sight ! 
I have no time to curse thee ere I die, 
Heaven will do't ! 

Enter Soldier. 
Soldier. 
Ply, fly my Lord ! • The Palace is assailed ! 
Our General's slain. Thy soldiers all have fled — 
Bruno, who should have warned thee of this hap, 
Was by the rabble seized and piece-meal torn ! 
Fly ! fly ! my Lord, at once ! 

Duke. 

Has't come to this \ 
Lead then to where the rout is thickest, 
That we may carve our way from out this place, 
And with the bodies of the slain we'll build us steps 
To tread our flight in safety ! 

[Exit Duke and soldiers. 

Isabella. 
Dost thou forgive me now, Binaldo ? 



72 ISABEL AND BINALDO. [act v. 

Rlnaldo. 
This little space of bliss blots out the past 
From memory ! Oh. now, within these arms — 
Oh joy too great for earth — I'll bear thee safe to Heaven ! 

Enter Conrado, Martellhsto, Pietro, and others. ■ 
Oh, Conrado, I had thought thou hadst been heralded 
To peace before me ! Oh, farewell ! Now death 
Steals over me ! The doors are opening ! 
How fares it with thee ? 

Isabella. 

I am very happy ! 
Father I 

Laxdolpho. 
I am here, my child ! 

Isabella. 
Forgive me, father \ 
Einaldo ! press thy lips to mine ! 'Tis cold ! 
'Tis very cold ! Thy hand ! Thy hand ! That's well ! 
Now love let's on together ! 



w. E. Smith, Printer and stationer, 28 and 30 Bridge-st. 



BOUND BY 

/. E. SMITH, 

Bridge St., 

Sydney. 



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